Mal. Do so still,
For if I heat you, hang me.
Vit. If you do not
I know who'll starve for't: why, thou shame of women,
Whose folly, or whose impudence is greater
Is doubtful to determine; this to me
That know thee for a whore.
Mal. And made me one,
Remember that.
Vit. Why should I but grow wise
And tye that bounty up, which nor discretion
Nor honor can give way to; thou wouldst be
A Bawd e're twenty, and within a Month
A barefoot, lowzie, and diseased whore,
And shift thy lodgings oftner than a rogue
That's whipt from post to post.
Mal. Pish: all our Colledge
Know you can rail well in this kind.
Cla. For me
He never spake so well.
Vit. I have maintain'd thee
The envy of great fortunes, made thee shine
As if thy name were glorious: stuck thee full
Of jewels, as the firmament of Stars,
And in it made thee so remarkable
That it grew questionable, whether virtue poor,
Or vice so set forth as it is in thee,
Were even by modesties self to be preferr'd,
And am I thus repaid?
Mal. You are still my debtor;
Can this (though true) be weigh'd with my lost honor,
Much less my faith? I have liv'd private to you,
And but for you, had ne'r known what lust was,
Nor what the sorrow for't.
Vit. 'Tis false.
Mal. 'Tis true,
But how return'd by you, thy whole life being
But one continued act of lust, and Shipwrack
Of womens chastities.